


A Little Bit Rock And Roll

by squidgie



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-09
Updated: 2017-10-01
Packaged: 2018-03-11 07:21:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3318917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/squidgie/pseuds/squidgie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rodney McKay is forced to go out on vacation, and is suddenly surrounded by a messy-haired bohemian that seems to be everywhere he is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> NOTES: Written for the romance festival in romancingmcshep, this used prompt #44 from the list, "The never-ending date". This is for day 9 of the festival, though I'm posting early since 2/9/15 is my first day on the new job, so I'll be out of pocket most of the day.  
> WARNINGS: NOT BETAED!

Rodney leans into the sumptuous, first class leather seat with a groan. He'd just boarded a plane bound for Seattle, courtesy of his new boss - but he didn't have to like it. Thinking back to earlier in the evening, he grumbles at the thought of so much time off.  
  
Earlier that evening, he'd been happily working at his lab trying to get a little more time in on his latest project.  Yes, he was _technically_ supposed to be on vacation as of 12:01am, but he figured that he could get at least a few things done before his management-imposed vacation was to begin.  Earlier in the week his new boss, Laura Cadman, had hustled him into her office soon after taking over the company, singing his praises but insisting that he take some time off to refresh.  Rodney tried every tactic he could, ending up completely blustered as she sat there countering every point, leaving him frustrated and with mandated time off.  
  
Just after midnight on Friday night as Rodney settled in for a good amount of data analysis, Cadman strolled in to the deserted lab, her husband in tow and both looking like they had just come in from a night on the town, to kick Rodney out.  "Rodney, it's for your own good," she'd urged.  "If you keep this up, you're going to get burned out." Slipping her arm around her husband Carson, she'd cooed, "Tell him, sweetheart."  
  
Rodney didn't respond.  Instead, he just glared at his boss as he shut down his laptop, pushed it into a backpack, and started for the door.  "Rodney, wait," Laura had asked.  
  
"Yes, what?" Rodney demanded.  "First you want me to leave, and now you're asking me to stay? Make up your mind, Doctor Cadman," he barked.  
  
Reaching into her bag, she pulled out an envelope and handed it to Rodney. As Rodney just stood there, fumbling it in his hands, she said, "Open it."  
  
Rodney impatiently opened the envelope, finding an what looked like travel documents.  "What the hell is this?"  
  
"To go with your mandatory three weeks vacation," she'd said quite smug.  "You have a first class ticket to Seattle, as well as a hotel room on the waterfront, and even some suggested destinations.  I know your sister and her family live in Vancouver, but I couldn't get you an International ticket without your passport information." Giving him a genuine smile, she had added, "Take some time, McKay."  
  
"Whatever," Rodney dismissed, and started heading for the door.  
  
Before he could get three steps, Carson stopped him. "Wait for us, lad." When Rodney turned to question him, Carson said, "Laura and I are taking you back to your place to pack your bag, and then we're getting you to the airport."  
  
Rodney had balked, of course, but Carson just said, "Rodney... It's for your own good."  
  
So after an hour's diversion to Rodney's meager apartment to pack, and another 45 minutes to Newark International, Rodney said goodbye to his boss and his "former best friend," as he'd said on multiple occasions after Carson and Laura had married, and tried to get comfortable in the seat, trying to ignore the other boarding passengers.  After everyone boarded, including a dark haired man seated across from him that looked like the epitome of the word 'bohemian', Rodney put on his earbuds, selected a classical music playlist on his iPod, and then stared out the window until he could manage to find sleep.  
  
~*~*~  
  
Rodney's plane lands in Seattle a little after 9am local time. Rodney squints in the brightness of the morning as he exits the terminal, looking at the overhead signage, which he follows to catch the light rail that would take him downtown. For Rodney's short time in the city, he figures that there is entirely too much sunshine all around, and the people wholly too chipper.  The one thing that he _did_ agree with was the fact that nearly everyone was carrying a cup of coffee, something that he wanted to fix as soon as possible.  
  
The trip into town on the light rail train takes about 40 minutes, and Rodney, somewhat familiar with Seattle, spots his hotel as the slow moving transit cuts through the downtown area.  He disembarks and carries his backpack and suitcase, taking his time to get to the high-rise, his mind a bit fuzzy from what little bit of disorienting sleep he'd gotten on the plane.  He spots a few businesses along the way, particularly a couple independent coffee shops, that he makes a mental note to make full use of as soon as he checks in to his room. He attempts to bypass the first shop, but the unmistakable aroma of a Hawaiian blend - probably Kona - overtakes his senses, so he pushes his way inside for a cup.  Standing in the middle of the store, he takes in a deep breath, letting the intoxicating scent of a well-roasted coffee bean fill him completely. Luckily now being midmorning, the line is short, and it takes just a short time to get the tallest cup filled with the rich, warm brew.  
  
Caffeinated, he steps back out into the crisp morning air, then strides over to he hotel, so focused on the last sip of coffee that he doesn't see the speeding Jeep coming his way.  He steps into the porte-cochere, so focused on savoring the last drop that he barely registers the porter's "Hey!  Watch it!" warning.  Instead, it's the screech of the brakes that brings him out of his reverie, and he turns his gaze to the offending gargantuan vehicle, not even flinching. Instead, he cuts his eyes at the man behind the wheel with a deathly glare.  
  
"Sorry, buddy," the guy says as he jumps out of the Jeep. "Are you okay?"  
  
Rodney just narrows his eyes further before shaking his head. "Why don't you watch where you're going, ya jerk!" he spits.  Tossing out his cup in a nearby bin, he harrumphs one last time, then turns back for the entrance.   
  
Just as Rodney reaches for the door, he hears, "Sorry," from behind him and turns back to glare one last time.  He pauses for just a second because the man looks a bit familiar - and then he recognizes him as the bohemian that had flown with him from Newark.  He gives the floppy-haired, tattooed man one last smirk, then immediately dismisses him as he quickly walks up to the front desk.  
  
Once his room and the surrounding sightseeing opportunities are explained, with a $20 tip for allowing him to check in early (something he would hold over Cadman's head when he got back to work), Rodney finally makes his way to his well appointed room.  He dumps his bags, falling back on the bed for a moment as he tries to rid himself of worry and stress.  It doesn't work when his back gives him a twinge, and he gets up and grumbles to himself about the mattress.  He unpacks his suitcase and stashes it in a nearby closet, then grabs his laptop and sits down on the bed.  Starting up his personal encrypted wireless network device, he then logs into work - where the first message he sees is from Laura Cadman telling him to get off of email and to enjoy his vacation.  After a quick check to make sure nothing else has blown up, he then sends an email from his personal account to his sister, asking when he should come up for a visit.  
  
Glancing at his watch Rodney figures it's been a few hours since he last ate, redeye flights typically don't have much in the way of food besides a few pretzels or peanuts, so he ponders if he should order in from the room-service menu or try and venture out to find something to eat. He figures that he's still got his shoes and pants on, so he grabs his hotel key and wallet, then stuffs his laptop and phone into his backpack and heads down to the lobby to search for food.  
  
~*~*~  
  
It's well past midnight, and Rodney is far from sleep. He'd had enough of spending his day playing tourist and exploring the city, though he'd managed to catch restaurants and some of the more out of the way tourist destinations during off hours because of his East Coast time difference.  After a quick, fitful nap and a failure to get back to sleep, he finally decides to get up.  But looking outside, he wonders if he'll be able to get to do anything as most of the shops seem to be long closed.  Remembering his first proper cup of coffee in the city, and the store that he'd picked it up in, his mind focuses, replaying his encounter until he's sure that he remembers that the coffee shop is open 24 hours a day.  If he is going to be up and about, coffee might as well be had.  
  
He takes a quick shower and puts on clean clothes, then traverses the quiet hotel. While most people are tucked away in slumber, Rodney's mind is still going.  As he steps out of the elevator, he realizes that he left his laptop. But instead of going back for it, he shrugs it off, picking up one of the complimentary newspapers on his way out of the hotel, then a pen from the porter's desk, then heads out into the night. Looking around, he finds most of the nearby storefronts darkened, but the coffee shop stands lit, a caffeinated beacon in the night.  
  
Rodney settles in with a large drip coffee, a cinnamon chip scone, and the newspaper.  Besides the two workers, he's the only soul in the establishment for at least thirty minutes. He's about a third of the way through the crossword when there's a noise from the front of the shop that grabs his attention.  He looks up, spotting a familiar looking man, all dressed in black clothing, with a hoodie covering his dark, "must be an artistic type" hair, hints of tattoos coming from under the sleeves of his hoodie, and kohl rimmed eyes. "Nah, you boys go on without me," he hears the man say to a few men standing just beyond the shop's door. "I need to just chill for a bit," and then watches as his boisterous friends disappear. He goes up to the register as Rodney absently gazes after the man for a few seconds, then goes back to his crossword.  
  
The sound of a chair scraping against the tiled floor breaks the silence, and Rodney looks up, finding Bohemian Man sitting at the table just across from him, playful green eyes studying him somewhat.  "Don't I know you?" the all-too energetic man asks.  
  
Putting down his pen, Rodney counters with, "What the hell? Are you following me or something?"  
  
Bohemian puts his drink - an iced espresso, which Rodney can think of a few insults for - on the table and crosses his arms, then cocks his head and gazes at Rodney.  "Sure," he playfully says with a wink.  "You want me to?"  
  
"You followed me out here from the East Coast. Then you almost ran me over with that behemoth of a car earlier, so it's obvious you're staying at my hotel. And now you're sitting next to me in a coffee shop at," he glances at his watch, "2:15am." Looking back down at his crossword, he mutters just loud enough for Bohemian Man to hear, "I'm pretty sure you're stalking me."  
  
Rodney listens as Bohemian Man gets up, and can feel the warmth pouring off of him as he sits down at Rodney's table.  He looks up as the man pushes his hoodie off his head, the dark hair now mostly plastered against his skull though there are still errant jabs of hair sticking out in multiple directions, and takes a seat. "Well if I'm gonna stalk you, I might as well know your name..." he drawls as he leans back in the chair as if he hadn't a care, an easy smile coming to his face.  
  
Rodney _would_ have rolled his eyes, but it was just at that moment when Bohemian rolls his hips in the chair, and suddenly Rodney's libido starts calling the shots. The man in front of him was _absolutely_ not Rodney's type; taller than Rodney, not shorter.  Dark hair, not blonde.  And he wore more eyeliner than probably every woman Rodney'd dated - combined.  But there was just something that exuded an air of sexiness, and it was preoccupying Rodney, frustrating him on multiple fronts.  
  
When Bohemian bobs his eyebrows and drops a hand to his lap, snugging the fingers against the bulge in his pants, Rodney is taken aback, though he'll never admit it.  Instead, he dares to peel his eyes away from the tempting scene, and makes eye contact with the man sitting across from him.  And against all better judgment, Rodney speaks as his libido thoroughly trounces all matter of logic.  "Rodney," he says quietly, then clears his throat.  "Doctor Rodney McKay."  
  
"John Sheppard," comes handsome guy's response. The hand that had just snugged the material at his crotch comes up, and Rodney is eager to shake it. "Nice to meet you, Rodney." Before Rodney can ask, or even contemplate letting go of the warm hand, John asks, "So what kind of doctor are you?"  
  
It takes Rodney a second to come back to his senses. "Oh - not the people kind. People, as a whole, are filthy, disgusting little creatures.  Especially the sick ones.  No, I'm a doctor of chemical and structural engineering," he blurts.  "Learn how to build a better bomb, but yet to build structures stronger to resist disasters.  They really go hand in hand..."  
  
"Cool," John says.  And as Rodney gazes at him, he finds the look to be genuine. Maybe his libido is onto something.  
  
"What about you?" Rodney asks.  "Besides, you know, following people across the continent, almost running them over with a car, and trailing them into 24 hour coffee shops in the middle of the night.  
  
John sits there, and Rodney could swear there's a minute look of confusion that crosses his face.  "Umm, I'm in the arts," John slowly manages.  
  
Smiling smugly, Rodney says, "I knew it."  
  
Cocking his head to the side, John says, "So you _do_ know who I am?"  He cuts his eyes slightly, studying Rodney.  
  
"No.  Why, should I?" Rodney asks.  "I just meant that hair," he says, pointing up to the listless hair that mostly sits plastered to John's head.  "I mean someone with _that_ hair has to have majored in the liberal arts.  Or, you know, some hippie-dippie nonsense."  He glances up at John, whose eyebrows have taken up residence somewhere near his hairline and says, "No offense," like it'll make all the difference in the world.  
  
After braying out a laugh, John manages to say, "McKay, you are a _trip_!"  
  
There's a bit of a noise coming from the front of the shop, and John puts his hoodie back on as Rodney looks, a bunch of young grungy-looking kids filing in from the dark night.  John stands, reaching out for Rodney and asks, "Hey, you wanna get out of here?" And then there's that errant hand that snugs against John Sheppard's black denim covered crotch again.  
  
He doesn't have to ask Rodney twice.  Rodney stands and grabs his newspaper.  "Well there's not a hell of a lot that's open right now," he manages.  
  
"Well, you've got a hotel room, right?" John asks, bobbing his eyebrows suggestively.  
  
Gulping, Rodney fishes in his pocket for his key. He produces it, John just smiling at the sight and nodding his head toward the door.  "After you," he says.  
  
They make it just outside of the coffee shop when Rodney hears one of the workers inside call out, "Hey, Sheppard!" through the rapidly closing door.  He turns just as John reaches out and grabs his elbow.  "Hold on a sec, okay?"  
  
Not sure exactly what's going on, Rodney turns and watches as John re-enters the shop and go to the counter.  John reaches out and shakes the young barista's hand, then takes a pen and piece of paper, signing something.  He watches as John nods, then slips back out into the dark.  
  
"What, did you forget to pay your bill?" Rodney asks as John sidles up next to him.  
  
With a wink, John says, "Something like that." He guides Rodney into the hotel, darting away from a group of people gathered in the lobby and takes Rodney's arm, leading him to a waiting elevator.  "What floor?" he asks.  
  
"Seventeen," Rodney says.  
  
John presses the button, then turns to Rodney.  He licks his lips, then leans in, warm hands finding their way around Rodney, with one on his back, and the other carding through the fine hair on the back of his hair, pulling Rodney close.  John's intense green eyes focus on Rodney, holding his gaze until his eyes slide closed and John's lips touch his own.  John inhales deeply, and his tongue pushes against Rodney's lips, easily gaining entrance.  Rodney can't help but groan, letting his own fingers search John's torso, finding purchase in the back pockets of John's jeans, enabling him to pull John closer.  
  
John smelled amazing, even though there was a layer of sweat that hid John's natural musk, with a hint of some scent coming off his hair. But he tastes even better, with the frozen cappuccino drink still lingering on his tongue, with maybe a hint of some smoky alcohol - bourbon, or maybe whiskey.  In all, the man is a treat for Rodney's senses, distracting him so much that he doesn't realize when the elevator dings, doors opening to indicate his floor.  
  
Stepping back, John smiles, then reaches for Rodney's hand. Rodney feels so loose that he might just trickle down into the grooves of the elevator car, dripping into the shaft. "Which one?" John asks, pulling Rodney towards the rooms.  
  
Adjusting his swollen cock with his free hand, Rodney nods. "1733, down on the left," he says, breathlessly.  
  
"Sophie Germaine prime.  Cool," John says, taking Rodney's hand in his and leading the way.  
  
It takes a second for Rodney's kiss-addled brain to come back to Earth, and he stops in his tracks.  "Wait, _what_?" he asks.  
  
"A Sophie Germaine prime.  You know, where the prime number times two-"  
  
"I _know_ what a Sophie Germaine prime is.  What I'm asking is _how you know it_." Rodney is cautious; he'd heard tale of industrial spies before, though John looks completely _opposite_ of what he thinks a spy would look like. But still.  He crosses his arms, not stepping a foot further until John turns and comes back to him.  
  
"Look," John says, blowing out a sigh. "Before I...started in the arts, I did some time with the United States military." Before Rodney can ask, John adds, "Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard, United States Air Force," and gives Rodney a mock salute.  "Spent a dozen years in the military flying anything I could get my hands on. And, you know, when you fly multi-million dollar airplanes, math kinda comes in handy."  
  
"Air Force?" Rodney asks.  "So why-"  
  
John cuts him off by pushing him up against the wall, giving him another lip-bruising kiss, overtaking all of Rodney's senses with one act, grinding his crotch against Rodney's for good measure.  "I don't think the Air Force would take to kindly to me blowing you in the hallway, Rodney," he smirks.   
  
"I'm okay with that," Rodney manages, reaching out to take John's outstretched hand.  
  
"Good," John manages.  "Because after that, I've also got plans for that spectacular ass of yours."  
  
John and Rodney barely make it through the door, Rodney pushing his backpack off the bed as the new couple tumbles into the covers. After an intense blowjob, and then one of the most mind-blowing fucks he's ever experienced, they collapse on the bed, panting as they try and catch their breath.  
  
"Jesus, Rodney," John manages through heavy breaths. But instead of finishing his sentence, he just reaches up and smacks Rodney on the ass, ending the smack with a leering squeeze.  
  
Rodney chuffs out a quick laugh.  "Hey, _I'm_ the one that's gonna be walking funny in the morning," he manages. He runs a hand over John's golden skin, sweat glistening in the dim light of the darkened room. "You're all sweaty..."  
  
Leaning up, John says, "Then come get a shower with me." He stands and reaches out for Rodney.  
  
Sighing, Rodney says, "Okay.  But _you_ may be forced to hold me up if my legs give out."  
  
John just chuckles, pulling Rodney up.  He claims a kiss - this one slow and lazy, whereas the earlier ones were frantic with need, want.  He stands, leading Rodney towards the modest bathroom, turning the lights low before setting the shower to a nice, warm flow.  He pulls Rodney in, and the two stand there, kissing gently under the stream of water, touching and caressing like the new lovers that they were.  
  
John steps out first, rubbing a towel through his hair before handing Rodney his own.  The two pat themselves dry, reaching out for the other playfully.  As Rodney brushes his teeth, John swipes the complimentary mouthwash and gargles, then leads Rodney back to the bed.  He starts to lie down, but Rodney protests, "But I need to get something to wear..."  
  
"Really?" John asks, reaching out and cupping Rodney's hip. He kneels, nuzzling against Rodney's cock, letting his tongue dart out, Rodney sucking in a breath at the sensation of John's tongue licking just underneath the foreskin.  
  
"Yeah, okay," Rodney says as he gets with the program. He lets John pull him down onto the mattress, and the pair face each other, slowly kissing and stroking as they take their time getting to know each other's bodies.  
  
It's John that yawns first, Rodney chancing a look at the clock to see that it's nearing 5am.  "It okay if I sleep over?" John quietly asks, voice showing just a hint of uncertainty.   
  
As if to give his answer, Rodney just grabs one of John's asscheeks, pulling him closer for another kiss.  "I don't know that I want this night to end..." He knows that his own voice sounds as hesitant as John's, and doesn't know when he started talking like a hippie-dippie romantic, but there it was.  Before he can think too much on the subject, his mind is put to ease when John squeezes him back.  
  
"Neither do I."  
  
~*~*~  
  
Rodney is awoken first by the sensation of John moving silkily against him, Rodney's engorged cock rubbing against John's backside. He opens his eyes, finding that he'd plastered himself against John's back sometime throughout the night - and now John was taking advantage of that face with the ministrations he was doing with Rodney's cock.  He takes in a deep breath and stretches, pushing gently against John, letting his cock rub between John's legs, the foreskin retracted and pushing against the little hairs on John's thighs.  
  
John leans over, grabbing the lube and a condom from the bedside stand and passing it back to Rodney.  "It's been a while for me," he whispers as he hands back the goodies, "and you're pretty thick.  Just take your time."  
  
Opening the lube with one hand, Rodney puts a few drops on his fingers. He reaches under the covers and puts a single finger at John's entrance.  He teases the hole gently, rubbing his finger all along the outside before leaning up and gently biting John's shoulder as he slips a finger in. He can feel John tense, and hears a sharp intake of breath.  But after gently sliding his finger around, John finally relaxes. It takes a little while before Rodney can insert a second finger, but with patience and more lube, he's able to do it.  By the time he's slipping the third finger up to his knuckles, he's found John's prostate, and is almost addicted to the little noises that John makes with each gentle breach.  
  
Ripping the condom package open with his free hand, Rodney finally removes his fingers from John to slide the condom down the length of his cock. He liberally applies a little more lube, and then puts one arm under John's head while guiding his cock to rest against John's hole.  Putting his hand on John's hip, he waits for John to say, "Okay," before he slips the tip of his cock into his new lover.  
  
The tight, warm sensation is almost enough to send Rodney tumbling over the edge, the only thing keeping him from instantly orgasming is the silent recitation of Nobel chemistry prizewinners from the past 50 years. "You okay?" he asks after what feels like forever.  
  
John responds by pushing back gently, tensing up as Rodney's thick cock breaches him further.  "Jesus, John," Rodney manages, and can't help but want to push forward. But he fights it - he takes his time, because John asked him to.  It's slow, but after about three minutes, Rodney finally has his cock buried deep within John, teetering on the edge with every whimper, every gasp.  
  
Together, John and Rodney find an easy rhythm that they can both take. Rodney keeps his thrusts slow, but deep, making sure to bump up against John's prostate with each thrust. After a few minutes, Rodney can feel John starting to gently stroke his own cock, and how John tightens around Rodney's cock.  "I'm not gonna last much longer," Rodney breathlessly whispers.  
  
"Oh yeah, Rodney," John says, and Rodney can feel John's hand speeding up, and the effect it's having on John. "Fuck me," John says, so Rodney picks up his pace, pulling back so that just the tip of his cock is still inside John, then thrusting forward and pummeling John's prostate over and over.  "Oh god, I'm gonna come," John says as his body starts to shudder. Rodney can feel the physical manifestation of John's orgasm as he, too, teeters on the edge.  John tightens his passage, sending Rodney over the edge. Both men call out as they give themselves over to their senses, Rodney experiencing one of the most powerful orgasms he's ever had.  
  
The pair finally still, Rodney squeezing his eyes shut as spots form in his vision from the powerful orgasm.  It takes a second for them to catch their breath, and Rodney slowly slips out of John.  He's hesitant to get out of the warm bed, but he has to.  After a quick trip to the bathroom to dispose of the condom, he washes his hands and gets a warm washcloth, bringing it back to John, who appears to be a boneless mass of tanned, furry flesh with the wild hair that matched the first time they'd met.  He gives John the cloth, slipping under the covers as John dabs the come from his stomach, then drops the cloth to the floor below.  
  
Turning over, John faces Rodney, a goofy smile on his face. "Good morning," he says with a smile as he slings an arm across Rodney, pulling him close. Rodney does the same, and the couple makes out, slow and sensual like they have the next few decades to get to know each other.  And as the sun rises higher in the East, they both slip back into slumber.  
  
~*~*~  
  
Rodney groans as he feels John slipping back under the covers. Reaching out for him, like it's the most natural thing in the world, Rodney takes John into his arms and is determined to go back to sleep.  John, on the other hand, is kissing Rodney gently, as fingers stroke down Rodney's back. He finally opens his eyes, smiling at the expressive green eyes that gaze back at him.  "Good morning," he finally manages.  
  
"I got us some coffee," John says, then takes a kiss.  
  
Looking around the room, Rodney spots a nice carafe sitting on the dresser with two cups, and what looks like all the right accouterments. He turns back to John, seeing that he's still naked.  "And what exactly did room service say when bringing in a tray to two _very_ naked men?"  
  
John laughs.  "Actually, I had one of my-"  He stops, and Rodney wonders what made John correct himself but listens as he finishes with, "A friend bring it up for us.  He's used to this kinda thing."  
  
The statement instantly awakens Rodney, and a look of consternation crosses his face.  "Used to?" Does John do this kind of thing a lot? Rodney is fully ready to wall himself up emotionally, wondering if John's sweet words from the night before were just that - words.  He can't help but study John a little more than he had previously.  
  
It's as if John can sense Rodney's worry as a soft finger drags up Rodney's arm, then settles on Rodney's hip.  "Sorry, sorry.  That came out wrong... I kinda tend to sleep later than most, and I usually sleep in the buff.  He's used to having to come wake me up when we're due for something. Or, you know, when I _do_ manage to get up early enough, and he walks in on me while I'm doing naked yoga."  
  
The thought of a bendy John is something that puts delectable visions in Rodney's head, though he's still a bit worried, but John interrupts those thoughts with, "Did you see those guys that I was with last night? At the coffee shop?"  
  
Rodney lets his mind wander, and he knows there were a couple of other guys dressed in black that John was with, but mostly they continue to be nondescript in his memory.  He nods slowly.  
  
"Well those are my... My friends," John says. He looks at Rodney, smiling gently as he strokes Rodney's hip.  "That was Markham and Stacks; two buddies of mine, along with my friend Lorne. We kinda..." Rodney watches John as he reaches back, scratching the back of his neck, and wonders what's making John uncomfortable, as it looks like a nervous habit.  "You _really_ don't know who I am, do you?"  
  
Pulling back and studying John, Rodney knows that if John was someone he'd met, or even heard of, he'd definitely remember him.  He shakes his head again, asking, "Seriously - should I?"  
  
"It's not important," John says.  "Anyway, me, Markham, Stacks, and my friend Lorne travel together, along with David - Lorne's husband, and Elizabeth. She," John pauses, then smiles as he says, "you can think of her as mother hen.  She watches out for us."  
  
"Well she wasn't doing her job last night when you came back to some strange guy's hotel room, now was she?  Not that I'm complaining," Rodney says, smiling. As his mind wanders, he asks, "So what?  Are you like in a band or something?"  
  
John lets out an easy sigh, saying, "Yeah, you could say that..."  Before Rodney can ask anything more, he asks, "So you want some coffee?" and then gets back out of bed.  
  
"Yes, please," Rodney replies, brain happily derailed with the thought of caffeinated goodness.  He sits up, eagerly taking a cup when John puts the tray on the table closest to Rodney's side of the bed, and happily sighs when John fills his cup. "So, how long are you in town?"  The question actually gives Rodney as much heartburn as the cheap hotel coffee, but if John is going to move on soon, he'd rather know now.  
  
"Actually, tonight-" John starts, but is cut off by the shrill tones of his phone.  "Sorry, I need to get this," he says as he stands up.  He goes to the window, facing it, which gives Rodney the most pleasant view of his backside.  Rodney is so mesmerized by John's ass that he barely catches the conversation.  
  
"Everything okay?" he asks as John sits back down on the bed.  
  
"Yeah.  Just this...thing. Evan and the boys are gonna do it."  
  
Cocking his head, Rodney asks, "I mean, if you've got hustle up some sales for your show tonight, I understand."  
  
And there's that nervous laugh again.  "No, no.  Just a media thing.  The guys can handle it."  
  
"What; like a local radio station or something?" Rodney's mind keeps going, and he asks, "Does your band actually get airplay on the radio?"  
  
John sighs again, then leads forward and kisses Rodney. "Let's not talk about that," and then distracts Rodney with another kiss.  "What are you doing in town?"  
  
"Me?  Oh... Mandatory vacation."  
  
" _Mandatory_?" John asks.  "Why? When was the last time you went on vacation?"  
  
Thinking back, Rodney finally says, "I had like a week off before I started this job, so five or six years ago?"  
  
The pair continues talking, John mostly asking questions about Rodney, while deflecting on some of the questions, answering Rodney with generalizations instead of specifics.  John's phone chirps a few times, though he mostly dismisses the intrusions after a glance. Mostly John and Rodney just stay in bed, leaning over each other, always touching at least a little, and spending as much time as they can together.  To Rodney it just seems natural, though he's never had a connection with someone like this, especially after such a short time.   
  
After a couple of hours, Rodney's stomach growls, and he looks over at the clock, realizing that it's after Noon.  "We should probably get a shower and get something to eat."  
  
"Hey, I can call and have something sent up," John says as Rodney finally climbs out of bed.  
  
The thought of getting a shower sounds good, but he likes the idea of lazing around the room with John wearing as little as possible. "Where's the room service menu?" he asks.  
  
"Burger okay?" John asks as he gets up and goes for his phone.  
  
"Yeah, but," Rodney starts as John pushes a few buttons on his cellphone.  He motions for the room telephone, but John just shakes his head.  "Just no citrus," he says.  John nods, but Rodney continues, saying, "Deathly allergic to citrus.  Seriously."  
  
John walks over and steals a kiss.  "You head on into the shower, and I'll- Hey, Chuck, hold on," when the other party picks up.  "Anything else?"  
  
Rodney just shakes his head.  He heads into the bathroom as he hears John on the phone, ordering their lunch from someone named Chuck.  He climbs in the shower, and is joined by John a few minutes later. "Room for one more?" John asks as he pulls open the glass door.  
  
"Mmmm," is all Rodney can respond as he watches John strip out of his boxers, then climbs under the hot stream of water with Rodney, their bodies instantly coming together.  Hands and lips wander, and the couple touch and stroke each other under as the steam fills the air.  Rodney gasps as John tweaks his nipples, then kisses his way down Rodney's chest and stomach, getting to his knees and taking Rodney's rapidly filling cock into his mouth. He uses one hand on Rodney's cock, the fingers of the other finding Rodney's prostate seconds later, and it doesn't take long before Rodney is spilling his seed across John's kiss swollen lips.  
  
~*~*~  
  
After their shower, they come out of the bathroom to find their food waiting on the dresser, along with a pile of clean clothes for John. "How did..." Rodney starts to ask.  
  
"Chuck," John just replies as he drops his towel and steps into a pair of boxers, then pulls a black t-shirt that says The Clash, with what looks like a bunch of hooligans beneath the logo.  
  
"That's," Rodney starts to say as he searches his memory. "I think that's the band that my little sister used to listen to when we lived at home.  Drove me _crazy_."  
  
John pats a hand over the logo, flattening it against his sculpted chest, and Rodney takes advantage of the situation to reach over and tweak a nipple. John, in turn, playfully whacks Rodney against the head, and the pair end up wrestling onto the bed, a very naked Rodney straddling John's chest as he pins John's hands above his head. He leans down to steal a kiss, only to have John flip them over and landing on top of Rodney, John's crotch dangerously close to Rodney's mouth.  Rodney leans his head up as John leans forward, and they end up going another round as their food grows cold on the sideboard.  
  
~*~*~  
  
As John and Rodney continue talking and getting to know each other, the sun sets as the brilliant oranges and plum red hues of the sky announces. John starts checking the clock more often after 5pm, and Rodney figures their time may be coming to a close. When the clock ticks over to 6pm, John says, "Crap..."  
  
"You have to go?" Rodney asks.  He's spent the last sixteen hours with John, but it seems like an eternity - in a good way.  
  
Bobbing his head, John says, "Tonight's the last concert, so yeah. Not that I want to go, but at least I'm free afterward."  He blows out a sigh, then looks bashful as he asks, "Do umm...  You want to go?"  
  
Though he's loathe to have to listen to any music published after the 18 th century, as John had found by checking Rodney's iPod playlists, Rodney _definitely_ doesn't want to break off quite yet.  
  
"You know, Rodney," John says, and there's that nervous habit again.  "I, uhh... I kinda feel like there's something," and then he moves his hands back and forth between them. "I mean-"  
  
Instead of responding, Rodney just closes the distance between them and pulls John into a kiss.  When he breaks it off, he just says, "Me, too, John.  Me, too."  
  
Smiling, John just says, "Cool."  
  
The pair finishes getting dressed, and Rodney gets ready to leave when John stops him.  "Hold on a sec," he says as he pulls his phone out.  He dials someone and says, "Yeah, Chuck?  We're ready."  
  
Rodney opens the door, looking out and seeing no one. "What was that for?" he asks as he closes the door.  
  
John shrugs at first.  "Chuck just makes sure the passageways are clear, that's all."  There's a knock on the door a second later, and Rodney opens it, where he's presented with a young, lanky brown-haired man with a nose piercing dressed in grungy clothes standing on the other side.  
  
"Come on, then," the young man says as he turns to head towards the elevators.  He calls over his shoulder, "Is this the lump from earlier?"  
  
"Hey!" Rodney challenges.  
  
"He means when you were asleep and buried under the blankets, Rodney," John says.  "Rodney, this is Chuck.  Chuck, this is Doctor Rodney McKay."  
  
"A doctor?" Chuck asks as he guides them to an elevator, a large man with dreadlocks and tattoos standing guard in it. "Like bass player, like lead singer," Chuck says.  
  
Rodney shoots John a look as they step in, though he saves a few odd looks for the gargantuan guy manning the elevator.  "Lorne - the band's bass player.  His husband's a doc, too.  Botanist."  
  
Rolling his eyes, Rodney says, "Soft sciences..." He realizes that the elevator is going up, and that the button that is lit up is marked PH. "Wait.  Where're we going?"  
  
"My room," John says as the elevator doors open. "I've got to get a couple things to get ready for the concert," he adds, then streams out, Rodney pushed out by the caveman so that they all end up standing in a large hallway. "Where're the boys?" John asks.  
  
"I'll get everyone," Chuck announces, and then disappears and knocks on the few other doors on the floor.  
  
Rodney follows John into the opened door and looks around. "What in the... _Sheppard_!" he says, taking in the spacious room and amenities. "What the hell?" he asks. The room was easily ten times larger than the one Rodney was staying in, with two working fireplaces in the sitting area alone.  
  
"Be out in a sec," John calls back.  Rodney follows the sound of John's voice, which leads him into a well apportioned bedroom, the light streaming into the room from the attached bathroom.  He peeks in, finding John at the sink putting product in his hair and messing it about, then watches as John starts to apply eyeliner, returning him to look how he had when Rodney had first met him in the coffee shop hours before.  
  
"This bathroom is as big as my entire hotel room," Rodney gawps. He gets a good look at John, who is shirtless and lets out an involuntary moan as he watches John's bicep flex, and the muscles in his back stretch out, giving him the broad shouldered and tapered waist look that was obviously Rodney's new kink. He walks up behind John, who smiles as Rodney gets closer, leaning back and pressing his ass against Rodney's crotch.  
  
"Rodney..." John says, voice singsong. It was the same voice John had used earlier when he announced the impromptu blowjob in the shower earlier.  
  
Glancing back, Rodney wonders if they have time for a quickie, and John responds with a lascivious grin.  
  
"Car leaves in seven minutes," a voice bellows from somewhere near the front of the massive guestroom.   
  
"Fine, Chewie," John calls back.  He turns to Rodney, asking, "Raincheck?" as he leans in for a kiss, and grinds his crotch to Rodney's.  
  
John turns back and finishes his eyeliner as Rodney mutters, "Death of me, I swear," as he becomes mesmerized by the sway of John's hips.  
  
~*~*~  
  
The 'car' that Ronon, as Rodney comes to find his name to be, had bellowed about had been a massive limo.  Rodney is introduced to the rest of the band, chuckling when one of the guys, Stackhouse he thinks the name was, says, "Nice ass," and John had whacked him upside the head, quickly followed by the man's own husband. Sheppard just rolls his eyes and reaches for Rodney's hand as Stackhouse climbs into his husband's lap. The couple continues to make out, oblivious of the others, until they reach the venue, which Rodney is somewhat shocked to find is Key Arena - the largest venue in Seattle, and possibly on the West Coast.  
  
When they step out of the limousine and are being shuffled into an underground entrance, Rodney finally quietly asks John, "So you're not just some little rock band, are you?"  
  
John just winks, then gives Rodney a kiss.  Glancing up at Ronon, he says, "Take him up to Elizabeth's box, will ya, Dex?"  
  
The gargantuan man just grunts, and then gestures for a nearby doorway. They enter, taking the elevator inside, then stepping out to find a long hallway.  "In here," Ronon says, and gestures, letting Rodney by. As Rodney lets his eyes adjust, he sees that they are on the complete opposite side of the arena from the stage, and stands there for a few minutes as he watches John and the rest of his bandmates get ready for the evening.  
  
"Don’t' worry, Doctor McKay," Rodney hears, so he turns his attention to where the voice comes from.  He finds a thin woman with dark hair, shaved on one side and dark purple bangs hanging over one eye, wearing torn jeans and a Black Flag t-shirt (which Rodney hazards a guess is another band he's never heard of) over a men's sport coat. "Elizabeth Weir," she announces, "and like I said, don't worry.  John messaged me what kind of music you like, so we'll be having some classical pumped into the box."  
  
At that moment, Rodney hears a distant, "Check, check, one two," and then the obnoxious jangle of a guitar chords that seems to rip through the glass.  "You get used to it," she says, pushing her hair out of her eyes.  
  
"No, no," Rodney fires back.  "It's okay, we can-"  
  
"Trust me," another voice says.  Rodney looks over Elizabeth's shoulder to see the tall, lanky man who was sitting with Evan Lorne in the limo enter the room. "We're used to it. A little Bach or Mozart would be a nice little change."  He reaches out his hand, saying, "David Parrish," by way of introduction.  
  
There's another chord riff, taking Rodney's attention back to the stage across the way.  "So who are these guys, anyway?" he asks.  
  
"Wait," Elizabeth asks, "You haven't heard of John Sheppard and the Section 654s?"  
  
~*~*~  
  
The concert by John and the band, which Rodney finds out is a collection of guys that left the military before they could be subject to Don't Ask, Don't Tell - section 654 of the military code - is surprisingly energizing. While they don't listen to the whole thing, Rodney enjoys John's call out to Seattle and, "all the hospitality he's been enjoying," which causes Elizabeth to laugh and Parrish to spew water out of his nose.  Apparently, and quite unknown to Rodney, the band had been the hottest thing on the rock music scene for the past few years, with a string of number one albums and dozens of hits.  He spent his time talking to Elizabeth and David throughout the concert, learning more and more about John and the band, and found that tonight is the last concert of their worldwide tour which had been going on the last nine months.  
  
"Yes, they're supposed to go back into the recording studio in a couple of weeks to lay down tracks for their next album," Elizabeth says. Glancing at Rodney, she adds, "But I think a couple weeks delay won't hurt."  
  
The concert goes for a couple of hours, and Rodney can't help but laugh when he hears John take a riff of the 1812 Overture and mix it into some lyrical melody with words that speak of living in a world without war or fear. Rodney laughs, explaining to Elizabeth that it's quite an ironic choice to mix based on the classical piece has its originations in war.  He hears John call, "Thank you, and good night!" as the stage darkens, and the lights of the arena come up.  
  
"That would be our cue," Elizabeth says. "The boys will be backstage to cool off, and be ready to head back to the hotel in a little bit." David heads for the door, Elizabeth right behind him, but she stops and asks, "Would you like to see John backstage?"  
  
"Absolutely," Rodney says, a big smile on his face.  
  
~*~*~  
  
After the concert, everyone piles into the limousine to head back to the hotel.  Rodney would think the band would be exhausted after such an energetic performance, but they seem even livelier than when they were on stage.  He takes a seat next to John, holding his hand as he watches the bandmates talking excitedly, Elizabeth sitting against a window, holding the phone up to her ear and trying to talk to someone.  When John leans back and smiles at him, Rodney can't help but smile back, John's smile is so infectious.  "What's it like?" Rodney asks.  
  
"What, performing?" John asks.  "I used to say that it was like flying. Nothing like it. But now..." He gets a faraway look, then leans in and steals a kiss, Rodney feeling it in his bones as John's tongue dances against his own.  As they break apart, John says, "Like that..." and rests his forehead against Rodney's. Looking deep into Rodney's eyes, he sighs, "A lot like that..."  
  
It doesn't take long for them to get back to the hotel, and though they have secured a back entrance, there is a multitude of fans and concertgoers that are milling around the common areas.  When the limo stops and the doors are flung open, there is a push by the mob to get as close as possible.  Elizabeth's assistant Chuck is first out, asking people to disperse, but it's Ronon's presence that actually parts the crowd, making way for everyone else. The band climbs out of the limousine, shaking hands and posing for pictures with fans as they make their way into the hotel.  
  
"You ready for this?" John asks Rodney, stopping just before he gets out, one foot already on the pavement.  
  
"Why would I-" Rodney starts, but John interrupts him, first with a kiss.  
  
As he runs a hand through his sweat-plastered hair, John blushes, then says, "I don't want this to sound forward or anything, but... You _may_ get pushed into the limelight a little when they see me holding your hand."  He locks onto Rodney's gaze, dark hazel eyes glinting in the flashes from cameras as the light invades their moment.  "It can be a bit much, and I understand-"  
  
Rodney cuts John off this time, pulling him close and inhaling his scent, fisting his hand in John's hair.  He hopes that the kiss he and John share answers his question, because as long as John is involved, Rodney feels as if he can deal with just about anything.  
  
As he climbs out of the limo, never letting go of John's hand, there are screams and hoots from those in attendance.  John never once lets go of him, at least not without an apologetic look first to sign a CD covert, t-shirt, or in the case of one very enthusiastic woman, the space just above an ample bosom in probably the lowest-cut blouse Rodney's ever seen (rolling his eyes when John turns back and whispers, "Boobs" to him).  John pulls Rodney toward the loading dock area where the rest of the band stands and waits as Elizabeth calls out to the crowd.  
  
"May I have your attention?  Please?" she calls, waiting for the noise to die down. When it does, she continues. "On behalf of John Sheppard and the 654s, we want to thank you for the absolute best sendoff of any tour we've ever had."  She turns back, as Stackhouse hoots and Lorne calls, "We love you, Seattle!" which raises the volume tremendously.  When it finally levels back off, she adds, "John and the boys are gonna get back in the studio in a couple of weeks, but first I think they're entitled to a little R and R.  Don't you?" She smiles, and Rodney can't help but think of this woman as the rock and roll world's version of Evita, small in demeanor but demanding and holding everyone's attention.  She was a natural leader, which he recognizes as something John and his bandmates needed.   
  
The band waves at the crowd, then starts to make their way inside when there are a few calls from the crowd of, "John!  Who is that?"  He nods, letting Elizabeth and the rest of the group make their way into the hotel, and squeezes Rodney's hand in his, turning back to the crowd with a smile, before turning to Rodney, who just gives John a knowing nod.  
  
"This's Rodney, my uh - boyfriend."  He turns back to Rodney, who beams at him. For Rodney, the words coming from John's mouth are an expression of exactly how he feels, though he's secretly glad John said it first.  And though it's been less than 24 hours, he simply can't imagine a time or a situation without John in his life, and he's glad that John seems to be edging down the same path. "We haven't been dating all that long, but we've got some time now.  And a _beautiful_ city to hang out in, if you'll have us," which causes another cheer from the crowd.  
  
When the crowd finally quiets down and starts to disperse, John waves, then pulls Rodney into the hotel, shutting the heavy door behind them.  
  
~*~*~  
  
After coming up to the lobby, and saying hello to a few more fans (and hearing the unmistakable boisterous laughter of Lorne, Stackhouse, Markham, and the rest of the group coming from the hotel bar), John pulls Rodney into an elevator.  He goes to punch a button, but then turns to Rodney.  "Wait. Where are we spending the night?" he asks.  
  
"My room first, but only as a stopover," Rodney says, punching the 17 button and letting the elevator get underway.  "Because we are sure as hell not going to stay in my rinky-dink room while you've got that massive suite up top."  
  
"We've only got it for one more night," John says as the elevator stops on Rodney's floor.  "Then we'll have to find something else..."  
  
"Well I've got mine for the whole three weeks," Rodney retorts. "I mean it's big enough, though it doesn't really have a tub..."  They step out and make their way to Rodney's room, John conspicuously silent. It takes a few paces before Rodney figures out John has slowed down, and is a few feet behind him. "What?" he asks.  
  
John's typing away on his phone as he follows Rodney. When he realizes Rodney has stopped, he looks up and says, "Oh, nothin'.  Just getting Chuck to find us a little place to stay - if, you know... You want to.  To stay with me."  
  
"Duh!" is all Rodney answers with as he opens the door to his room.  He grabs a few things, and then shuffles John back into the hallway as he stuffs his laptop and some clothes into his backpack and quickly marches to the elevator, John slowly dawdling behind him.  "Well come on, come on!" Rodney says as the elevator doors open. "The quicker I can get you into that tub, the quicker I can get you into bed."  
  
~*~*~  
  
John and Rodney's tub time is relaxing, though John is still a bit hyper when they finally climb out.  After a nice long soak, they are comparing pruned fingers and toes, so Rodney coaxes the chattering John to the massive bed and gives him a blowjob to relax. And once he's sated and yawning, Rodney crawls up next to him, where they make out for a few minutes until they're both fast asleep.  
  
Rodney's awake first, and judging by the amount of light streaming in, it seems to be somewhere around 10am.  He calls down to get some coffee sent up, though the hotel sends a complete continental breakfast and sets it up in the living room section of the suite. The two stewards finish the setup, and Rodney tips them as he asks what time checkout is, finding it isn't until 3pm. He walks to the bedroom, fully intent on waking up John, when an idea comes to him.  Returning to the living room, he pulls his laptop out and connects to the Internet, doing a quick web search.  "Cool," he says and puts the laptop away.  
  
Grabbing a cup of coffee, Rodney walks into the luxuriously decorated bedroom and sets the coffee down before sitting on the bed, his fingers searching under the covers for John.  He first finds John's messy mop of hair and runs a hand through it, smiling when John's heavily tattooed arm emerges from the blankets, fingers latching on around Rodney's thigh.  There isn't a coherent word that comes out, though there is a series of grunts and sighs that emerges from under the blanket.  
  
"Wake up.  We've got stuff to do," Rodney announces.  The only acknowledgement that he gets is a squeeze from John's dexterous fingers across his leg.  "John..." he says, voice going sing-song.  "No more blowjobs until-"  
  
"I'm up, I'm up," John says, his head finally peeking out from under the covers.  He stretches, then leans up and grabs a kiss as his eyes begin to dart around the room. "Coffee?" he asks, scrunching his nose up to sniff the air.  
  
Rodney scoots to the side of the bed, pointing to the cup on the bedside table.  "Got you some right here," he says.  "The rest of the spread's in the other room."  He leans over and whacks John on the butt, relishing a squeeze that he gives it before taking back his hand.  "Now chop chop.  Your phone has pinged a few times, and checkout is in a few hours.  Plus, we got places to go."  
  
John manages to sit up, stretching out his muscles and Rodney can't help but enjoy the feast in front of his eyes, smiling as John scratches at the dark hair covering his pectorals.  John asks, "So what're we doin'?" as he takes a sip of the coffee, setting the cup back down with a satisfied-sounding noise.  
  
"Special.  My treat," Rodney says.  "But first we gotta pack up your stuff so we can move it to my room.  Or, you know - wherever we're gonna stay."  
  
Standing, John stretches out his back and then heads for the other room, Rodney standing mesmerized by John's buttcheeks as the muscles move beneath tanned flesh covered by a light smattering of hair.  "Let me see if Chuck found us something," he says as he disappears, coming back a few seconds later with his attention on the phone.  He comes back and sits down next to Rodney, bumping his shoulder.  
  
The two share a smile, and John manages to look about twenty years younger when he sprouts the beginnings of a blush.  "This is..." he says, but stops speaking. Instead, he leans over and grabs a kiss. "I know this is kinda fast, but... Are you okay with everything?"  
  
Rodney thinks about it, and the only thought that enters his mind is that everything with John just feels natural - feels right. "I know it's only been," Rodney glances at the clock, "about thirty three hours since we met. But, yeah.  Yeah, I am."  
  
"Cool," John manages, and there's that nervous habit of rubbing the back of his neck again.  "I... Look, Rodney.  I normally don't talk about...  You know - stuff like emotions or dating or-"  
  
"So you're like, literally, every other man on the face of the planet," Rodney counters, earning a laugh.  "I'm okay with this if you are," he says, and this time it's Rodney that's sporting the beginnings of a blush.  
  
"Cool," John just says.  He leans over to steal a kiss, and ends up pinning Rodney to the bed, where the couple makes out leisurely, taking their time to get to know the feel of each others bodies against their own skin.  
  
As John kisses his way down Rodney's neck, and then latches onto a nipple, Rodney sucks in a breath, then manages to get out, "And not that I'm discouraging you from what you're doing, but..." Just then John drags his tongue through Rodney's bellybutton as silky, strong fingers wrap around Rodney's cock.  
  
"You were saying, Rodney?" John says, voice innocent as he turns his attention to Rodney's foreskin, blowing a warm breath across the head, making the skin retract before finally taking Rodney into his mouth.  
  
Though another gasp, Rodney says, "Nothing, nothing! It can wait."  
  
~*~*~  
  
Once they're sated - physically from each other, and from the elaborate spread of food provided by the hotel, John and Rodney make their way to the bathroom.  There, they crawl under the multitude of showerheads, spraying them with warm jets of water from nearly every conceivable direction.  Chuck shows up, purposefully waiting for them in the living room section of the suite and garnering their attention once they're quite done with the shower and dressed. John and Rodney pick a fully furnished and well stocked, private home on Queen Anne Hill, John asking Chuck to make sure the caretakers remove all citrus from the house before they get there. As Chuck starts to leave, Rodney grabs his meager possessions, and is about to head down to his room, when Chuck informs him that his room will be packed up, and his belongings sent along with John's to their private retreat.  
  
"You guys need anything else?" Chuck asks with one foot out of the door.  
  
Both John and Rodney shake their heads, Rodney adding, "Nope," and watch as Chuck heads for the door.  
  
Chuck starts, "Elizabeth and the guys are headed back on the jet this afternoon, but-"  
  
Interrupting him, Rodney playfully whacks John on the arm. "You have a _jet_?"  
  
Shrugging, John says, "Yeah, but it's just a little Hawker 900X. The boys and I take turns flying it; gotta keep our pilots licenses up to date."   
  
Thinking about John being on his flight, he asks, "But you flew out here on my flight.  Commercial."  
  
Nodding his head, John clarifies, "Yeah, well I had some thing to take care of at home."  
  
And suddenly everything makes sense to Rodney.  Though John seems to be a big music star (Rodney _did_ Google him when John was still asleep, smirking when he'd found some unseemly rag called People Magazine that had an article naming John one of the top ten most eligible bachelors in America), the fact that he flies his own plane - as well as drives himself, which the incident two days previous with the Jeep proved - well, it just really fit that John really was a down to Earth type guy.  
  
"Anyway," Chuck says.  "We'll get your stuff moved, and I'll send the address and directions to the place on Queen Anne to your phone. I'll stick around Seattle in case you guys need anything-"  
  
"Which we won't.  You work too hard, Chuck.  Take some time," John says.  
  
"Yeah, yeah," Chuck dismisses.  "Anyway, I'll be around if you need anything, but mostly I'm going to hang out with some friends at the Orpheum.  Just let me know when you want to head back East, and I'll either get you a ticket or we can have one of the guys bring the plane out."  
  
"We'll be fine," John says.  He turns to Rodney and says, "If you're not too sick of me by then, I can just fly home with you."  
  
"Cool," Rodney says, a smile already on his face.  
  
~*~*~  
  
Rodney won't tell John what his plans are for the day, not even letting an impromptu post-packing blowjob shake the secret from his lips. They finally finish getting ready, John shimmying into a hoodie (exposing a tanned, furry swath of skin at the waistband of his jeans that gives Rodney more than a few ideas) and grabbing a pair of aviators.  Rodney first questions if he needs them, with the Seattle sky already overcast, but then remembers that John isn't just anyone; they're defense against being recognized everywhere they go.  "You ready?" John asks as he hangs up the phone, having called for the Jeep.  
  
Nodding his head, Rodney says, "Yep!" and then smiles when John reaches for his hand, leading them out of the suite.  
  
John drives like he performs on stage; not too reckless, but with passion and an immediacy that makes Rodney double and triple check his seatbelt. They head south on Interstate 5, Rodney directing them to the Renton exits.  Rodney points them to a side road, smiling as they pass Boeing and seeing John's head whip around to spot all of the jets waiting delivery. "Right over there," Rodney says as he spots their destination.  
  
Passing through the last stoplight, Rodney knows he's made the right choice when he sees John's face split in a huge grin.  "The Museum of Flight, Rodney?" John asks.  
  
"Yeah, well," Rodney says, suddenly feeling a little bashful. "I figured you like to fly, and Seattle is one of the biggest towns in the world for airplanes..."  
  
Pulling into the lot, John finds a nearby parking place and shows his appreciation by reaching for Rodney, pulling him close, and giving him a passionate kiss.  But Rodney doesn't even manage to open his eyes before John pulls back and takes off his seatbelt, then opens the door.  Rodney just grins and shakes his head; it's exciting seeing John acting like a happy schoolboy, something he doesn't think John manages all that often. He gets out of the Jeep and catches up to John, who is fast approaching the museum entrance.  
  
Entering, Rodney knows he's made the right choice when he watches John pull off his sunglasses, standing slackjawed in amazement at the sheer number of aircraft and aircraft related pieces that surround them.  
  
"Greetings, and welcome to-" the ticket seller starts as Rodney guides John to the sparsely populated museum entrance. "It's _you_ , isn't it?" the young girl asks, gaping at John.  
  
John just smiles at the young girl.  "Thanks," he says and reaches out to shake her hand.  
  
Rodney takes his credit card out of his wallet, but the young girl, still agog at John, says, "No, no.  You can wander the grounds - it's on us."  
  
"Absolutely not," Rodney says.  "We're paying customers, just like anyone else," he counters.  He knows that John may be famous, but he'll be damned if they are going to be treated any different than any other visitor.  After all, John rented a car and is driving it himself, just like any other vacationer to the Pacific Northwest.  
  
The girl, 'Annabelle' her nametag says, sighs as she takes Rodney's card. She runs it, then gives Rodney the receipt and a wristband.  But instead of handing John his own, she nods, expecting John to hold out his hand so that she can put the band on herself.  John just smiles as he extends his hand, but nods expectantly until the wristband is dropped into his palm.  He then winks at the girl as he turns to Rodney, who snaps the band around his wrist. "Thanks, Rodney," John says as he makes quick work of Rodney's wristband, finishing with a kiss. "And thank you, Annabelle," he adds, leaning over and kissing her on the cheek.  
  
John and Rodney slowly wander through the exhibits, Rodney figuring out he hit a home run with his idea every time he finds John standing next to some scale model of a fighter jet or the retired Bell Huey helicopter that sits on the edge of the ground floor of the museum.  This time, he _did_ let John use his fame to get behind the rope to see the aircraft up close, as the young man in charge of that section of the museum allowed, looking at John with a gobsmacked expression.  The smile on John's face among the exhibits is only rivaled by the ones he sports when Rodney leads him outside, where they find retired service airplanes on the property, including a retired Air Force One and one of the supersonic Concords.  
  
They ride back to Seattle a few hours later, John mostly quiet. "Was it okay?" Rodney asks as they get onto the highway to head back north.  John just responds by reaching out and taking Rodney's hand into his own.  
  
"That was the best, Rodney," John says. And Rodney knows he must have done something right since John's drive back to Seattle is more subdued than their drive out, and the smile never leaves his face.  
  
Rodney gets the address for their vacation bungalow from John's phone and punches the coordinates into the Jeep's GPS system. They drive through town, Rodney insisting on stopping at the little coffee shop that they'd met at just days previous for an afternoon pick me up before they find the house. When they finally manage to make it, they find a sprawling, beautifully restored Victorian home on a large plot of land with a fence and lots of trees for privacy.  The gate opens and John pulls the Jeep down the long driveway, finding an open garage with a smartly dressed, tall, and balding man stepping out, who reaches for John's door as the Jeep comes to a halt.  
  
"Mister Sheppard, Doctor McKay.  May I say it's very good to meet you both."  
  
John reaches out, shaking the man's hand and saying, "John Sheppard, nice to meet you.  And this is Rodney," he says as he glances back at Rodney, who slips out of the Jeep and is at John's side a moment later.  "And you are?"  
  
"Richard Woolsey, sir.  The caretaker of this and several other properties up here in Seattle. Won't you come in?" he asks, holding a door for the couple.  
  
Rodney follows John into the house, taking in the tastefully appointed rooms until Woolsey leads them into a living room area, where Rodney could swear that the house sports more than a few works from famous artists. "This place is _cool_!" John manages.  
  
"Yes, sir," Woolsey dryly replies.  "I've taken the liberty to move your suitcases to the master suite, which is on the second floor.  The kitchen," he says as he leads John and Rodney into the sprawling kitchen, "with just about everything stocked.  Your assistant, Chuck, took the liberty of giving me a few of your favorites, though, Doctor McKay," Woolsey says, nodding to Rodney, "I’m afraid I didn't have any of yours, except the requirement of no citrus.  I'm truly sorry."  
  
Shaking his swimming head, Rodney says, "It's fine, really."  
  
"Is there a hottub?" John asks, voice playful.  
  
Woolsey holds out a key and a remote, dropping them into John's hand. "Remote for both the gate and the garage, and the key for the locks."  He turns, leading them to a large sliding glass door, opens it, and leads them out onto a deck.  Pointing down to the side of the house, he says, "The Jacuzzi tub is just off the bottom of the stairs, and there's a sauna next to it. It can be chilly outside at night, even during the warmest months, so you'll find robes and swimwear, _if you choose to use them_ ," and Rodney can't help but playfully smack John in the arm for sniggering at the thought, "can be found in the master bedroom closets."  
  
Walking them back into the house, Woolsey asks, "Will there be anything else?"  
  
Rodney shakes his head, but John asks, "So where are the closest places to get stuff that we might need."  
  
"Anything you could possibly need can be furnished to you, Mister Sheppard."  At John's look, Woolsey says, "Barring that, both grocery stores QFC and Safeway deliver to this area.  And if you wish to visit in person, there is a QFC that is four blocks due east of here."  
  
John and Rodney share a look.  "Cool," John repeats.  "That's all we need, I guess."  
  
"Very well.  Then I shall bid you good day."  Woolsey turns to leave the house, calling over his shoulder, "My number is on the refrigerator.  Don't hesitate to contact me if I can be of any assistance."  And with that, and the sound of retreating footfalls, Richard Woolsey disappears from the house.  Rodney finds him a few minutes later, watching him ride up the driveway in a golf cart from the giant bay window in the front room, finally disappearing through the gate.  
  
~*~*~  
  
John and Rodney relax in each other's company, choosing to spend most of their time at the house.  More often than not they spend time watching television, but other times just lounging, taking time to just get to know one another.  Rodney figures that he's not been this comfortable in probably his whole life, and that each smile John gives him melts his heart a little more.  
  
It's four days before they venture out of the house, and since it's to the local grocery, John insists on walking.  Rodney gives him a look that he hopes conveys, 'are you kidding?' but when John balks, says, "Well excuse me for making you so happy that you bent me over the kitchen island this morning."  
  
"What can I say?" John asks as they walk through the gate at the top of the driveway, "You make a good cup of coffee."  
  
The walk to the store is unremarkable, and Rodney nearly forgets how famous John is until they are in the produce section of the QFC, John smiling, shaking hands, and posing for pictures with some fans.  For fun, John grabs a bag of lemons in one hand, pulling Rodney to him with the other and smiling like a maniacal loon as some fans take their picture.  He puts the bag down and pulls Rodney to him, playful face full of mirth as he leans over, kissing Rodney, and even more flashes go off.  
  
It's two days later when they're quite sated from a full meal, when they are finally disturbed from their bubble of privacy.  Thoroughly relaxed from time spent in the Jacuzzi and herbaceous smelling sauna, Rodney gets up from snuggling on the couch to go to the bathroom.  He hears his phone ping from the living room and John calls, "Rodney?  Your phone!"  
  
"Just a minute, just a minute," he counters as he washes his hands.  
  
John calls back, "It says 'Jeannie' and has a picture of some girl and... Wow, pretty eyes."  
  
Ducking his head out of the nearby bathroom, Rodney calls, "It's my sister up in Vancouver."  
  
Before he can make it back to the living room, Rodney hears John answer, "Hello?"  "Oh god," he says, doubling his speed to make it back before-  
  
"Meredith?  There's not a Meredith here.  There's a _Rodney_ here..."  Rodney resists rolling his eyes as he looks down at John, extending his hand and snapping his fingers in an urge to get the handset back. "What do you mean who is this?" John asks, a smile so broad that the skin at his eyes crinkles up, and the light from the television glances off brightly.  "My name's John.  Is this Jeannie?"  
  
Rodney sits down next to John, poking him in the side. John laughs, but doesn't give up the phone, curling in on himself protectively.  "Well it's nice to meet you Jeannie. No, no, you're _not_ going to kill him.  Why?  Well, I kinda like the guy," he says.  
  
Stopping mid-poke, Rodney takes advantage of it when John stretches back out to lean in for a kiss, grabbing the phone in his kiss-addled distraction, and then holding John back when he's pushed back onto the couch. "What, ya little bratlet?" Rodney playfully asks.  "I'm kinda busy right now."  
  
" _Meredith Rodney McKay. Why in the hell didn't you tell me you were dating John Sheppard?_ " Jeannie spits through the line. If he were in the same room, he's sure Jeannie would have thwacked him in the ear.  
  
Rodney almost drops the phone as John tries to distract him enough to grab back the phone.  He reaches up, locking John's head between his legs and forcing John's head to his stomach, where Rodney pulls up his 'I'm With Genius' shirt and covers John's head. "Wait," he asks, letting John struggle until he gets a wet raspberry blown on his stomach, then letting him up.  "How the hell did _you_ know we were dating?"  
  
There's the sound of paper rustling, and then Jeannie counters, " _Duh!  It's on page one of The Sun's entertainment section today. A big picture of John Sheppard, menacingly holding a bag of lemons over your head._ " There's a tsking sound, and then Jeannie says, " _Man, you two would have_ ugly _kids!_ "  
  
Rodney can't hold back a laugh, barking it out as he tries to keep John at bay.  
  
"What?  What'd she say?" John asks.  
  
Turning his attention to John, Rodney repeats, "She says we'd make ugly babies," which John chuckles at.  Going back to Jeannie, he says, "You _do know_ that's not how it works, don't you Jeannie?"  
  
Ignoring Jeannie's " _Gross_!" comment for the moment, Rodney can't help it when John calls out, "Not that we haven't been trying!" loud enough for both Rodney and Jeannie to hear.  
  
"You dork," Rodney says, and can't help but smile when John leans down and kisses him.  
  
" _So when are you coming up to visit_?" Jeannie asks.  
  
"Visit?" Rodney repeats, glancing up at John, who shrugs his response.  
  
"We'll have to get back to you on that," Rodney says, and then pulls John down on top of him, kissing him thoroughly as he abandons the phone into the cushions of the couch, and ignoring it when it starts to ring seconds later.  
  
~*~*~  
  
John and Rodney spend a couple more days at their secluded retreat, heading up for a weekend trip to Vancouver to meet Jeannie and her family. Even after Rodney warns him of their veganism, John gladly suffers through the visit, calling each homemade meal delicious.  
  
After their Vancouver visit, they retreat back to Seattle where they spend the last few days of Rodney's vacation hold up, just snuggling and forgetting everything else outside the four walls of the house. When it's finally time to head back to the East Coast, Chuck shows up with John's ticket, which Rodney is more than happy to find out that not only is John on the same flight going back, but in the seat right next to him.  
  
On the morning they have to head back, John wakes Rodney with a pot of strong coffee, pulling him out from under the covers with the scent. Rodney, whose mood has been as light and playful as John's, grumps even as he turns on his side, resting on one arm as he sips on the warm, rich brew.  
  
"What's wrong, Rodney?" John asks.  When Rodney sits up, he takes Rodney's cup, placing it on the table, then brings a finger to Rodney's chin, lifting it up so that their eyes catch.  "You know that we'd eventually have to go back..."  He slowly cards a finger through Rodney's hair, Rodney leaning into the caress.  
  
Blowing out a sigh, Rodney says, "Yeah.  I just..."  He looks at John, eyes rimmed with seriousness.  "I just don't want this to end."  
  
Leaning forward, John captures a kiss, and then leans his head against Rodney's.  "Who said anything about this ending?" he asks, voice quiet.  He sighs, and raises his hand to the back of his neck. "I mean, we knew you were gonna have to go back to work, and the boys and I are gonna have to get back in the studio soon.  But it..." John suddenly goes a little rigid, and blurts out, "Move in with me."  
  
The suggestion takes Rodney by complete surprise, though it's not an unwelcome one.  He studies John for a minute, and can only see sincerity in his offer.  "Are you sure?" he asks.  
  
"Rodney," John says, then leans over and steals another kiss. "You keep telling me you have a rinky-dink apartment on Staten Island that you don't really like. I've got a nice, big apartment in Manhattan, that's just a few blocks away from your office.  It's close to-"  
  
"How do you-"  
  
"Because I looked it up, dumb dumb," John says with a smirk. "Atlantis Maximatics is four blocks away, and there are so many cool little restaurants and shops between the two.  Plus, I've _totally_ got a nice big space that we can convert into an office for you so you can work from home when you want to." Taking a deep breath, John says, "So waddaya say?  Wanna move in with me?"  
  
It takes Rodney just a split second to consider his answer, which he gives to John by pulling him down on the bed, kissing him pliant. They're not interrupted until the sound of John's phone ringing, which he reluctantly gets, clicking it to speakerphone.  
  
Without waiting for John to answer, Chuck blurts, "You haven't even left Queen Anne, have you?"  
  
"Uhoh," John says.  
  
Improvising, Rodney offers, "We were just getting ready to leave now."  
  
"Liar," Chuck says with a laugh.  "I went ahead and moved both of your flights to this afternoon at 2pm.  But get a move on, because if you're not on it, you're on your own."  
  
The line goes click as John leans back down, grinding into Rodney one last time, and Rodney figures they have another couple of hours before they miss their next flight.


	2. Opening Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the start of John Sheppard and the Section 654's world tour, and Rodney is in attendance.

Rodney didn't get to attend John's concerts all that often, but when he did, he found himself enjoying them more and more. Not that his taste in music had graduated from anything composed past the 1800s, but even _he_ could admit that John Sheppard and the Section 654s played music that had more than just a beat; it had meaning and soul. Rodney especially loved the classical riffs that John and bass player Evan Lorne had worked into the occasional song, bridging the world of rock and classical. And if it intrigued the band's fanbase? Even better. 

Tonight was the first show of four in Madison Square Garden, which meant that John and Rodney would be able to sleep in their own bed once the final bow was taken. Because it was the beginning of the tour, the promotion had gone heavy, as evidenced by John's additional media appearances. And nothing talked promotion more than random people showing up in the band's official box, nervous energy shaking off them like an excited puppy. Elizabeth had alerted him, though he waved it off. There were two winners already there, so transfixed on the band that it was like there was no one else in the room.

Rodney looked up during a Claire de Lune riff that Evan had worked into a new ballad the band had written about sex and love during the heat of battle. The song had been (according to David, Evan's husband) an instant hit, and was so prevalent that even Rodney found himself humming the chorus from time to time. He smiled when he heard Stackhouse's synthesizer inserted a few chords, but his attention was quickly drawn to the door, an enthusiastic, "Oh my god, I'm such a huge fan," echoing off the walls. He turned in time to see a fresh-faced kid who couldn't be more than 25 standing with Elizabeth, a sincere smile on her face, a shock of newly-dyed pink bangs half covering her ever-expressive eyes.

"Well congratulations, Aiden," she said as she guided him to the window with the others. She dropped her palm on Rodney's shoulder and gave him a quick smile, then turned her attention back to the guest. "Sorry about the late start, but there was a bit of a mixup. These two are Catherine and Zhao, the other winners. They met the band earlier, but because you weren't here, everyone will get to spend a little time with the guys after the show. We'll all congregate up here after the concert, and you'll each get a little one-on-one with them."

Other than the sound of Rodney's keyboard and the band's melodic voices during an a cappella chorus, the room was quiet. Rodney looked up and found the fresh-faced fan transfixed on the scene in front of them. "So what - were you like the ninth caller or something?" Rodney asked the young man.

Elizabeth squeezed Rodney's shoulder, then flicked the pink hair from her face. "It was a little more involved than that, Rodney," she said with a smile.

"Oh... You're Rodney McKay!" Aiden said. He held out his hand. "Aiden Ford. I'm a huge, huge fan of Mister Sheppard's," he said, then returned his gaze to where the band was playing. "A big, big fan."

Rodney took in the image of the young man in front of him, and the look of affection that he seemed to hold, which caused an irrational pang of jealousy to shoot through him. He knew what he and John had was beyond the concern of fans or roadies, at least with him and John, David, and Evan. Markham and Stackhouse on the other hand... Their philosophy was more of the "Love the one you're with" - which ultimately worked for them, as well as the occasional roadies, stagehands, and random people - women and men - that somehow paraded their way into and out of the couple's hotel room. 

Markham and Stackhouse's relationship had made Rodney nervous at first, but he'd never seen a couple more dedicated to one another, no matter how many potential partners had hung off their arms. 

Looking at the handsome young man that stood slack-jawed out the box, Rodney spotted a Marines insignia and figured Ford must be another member of the military - current or former. And now that 'Don't Ask, Don't Tell' was dead and buried, even if Ford played for their team, he didn't have to worry about it any longer. "You should ask John about his service," Rodney suggested. "Not a lot of people focus on it, and it's how he and the band got together in the first place."

"If I don't get too nervous," Ford admits. And damned if Rodney can't see a hint of a blush on his face.

"He's just a regular guy, just like you and me," Rodney says with a smile. "But you know, if you want to work up with him, you can start out with Markham and Stacks. They pretty much specialize at putting people at ease."

Rodney caught Elizabeth as she choked a bit on her tonic water. He turned to her, a big, innocent smile plastered on his face as Aiden again turned toward the band. "You okay there, Elizabeth?"

Elizabeth tried not to let the suppressed grin grow beyond a cock of the head and a blush of her own. "I'm fine, Doctor McKay," she said as she covertly pinched the back of Rodney's arm. "Just fine."


End file.
